


The Home Army

by dlouc



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/F, Holocaust, M/M, Minor Character Death, Resistance, WWII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:31:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4042390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dlouc/pseuds/dlouc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Morgana seriously injured, Arthur finds himself thrown into the world of the Polish Resistance, also known as the Home Army. As the secrets of this mysterious organization come to light, Arthur realizes they may be the only people capable of saving Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Home Army

Arthur spent the rest of the day in his room with Morgana. There was so much to explain, it took Morgana hours.

It had taken Morgana about a month to figure out what the camp (she said it is called Auschwitz) was for, exactly what father was doing there. She knew the smoke wasn't from burning rubbish, so she started listening in on Father's meetings. It took a few days of this for Morgana to finally piece everything together.

"Once I found out, I didn't know what to do. I've never been more disgusted with Father in my life. For awhile I seriously considered killing him, but that wouldn't have changed anything. He'd be replaced."

Morgana started sneaking out, spending all day in town, anything to stay away from Father and the camp. It was there she heard about the resistance, just whispers of it here and there. It didn't take her long to find them,though convincing them to let her join wasn't easy. Understandably, they were hesitant to open their doors to the mysterious German girl no one had ever seen before. She claimed to be a political refugee from Munich, she knew the wouldn't let her join if the knew she was the daughter of Uther Pendragon. When they found out who she really was, they almost kicked her out, but at that point she'd been with them for almost a year and was basically family.

"What is it that you do?" Arthur asked. He'd heard the stories. Bombings, murders, kidnappings, torture. He was almost scared of what Morgana would say. On the other hand, he honestly didn’t care what happened to his father or any of the soldiers. The Nazis could all go to hell.

“I can’t tell you that.” Morgana whispered.

“No, of course you can’t.”

There was another question that Arthur was dying to ask, but he was terrified of the answer. It would almost be better not to know. Almost. Not knowing was killing him.

“And Merlin, the boy you save… is he… alright?” Arthur asked softly.

“I don’t know.”

 *    *    *    *

There was someone at the gate. From the stairwell window, Arthur could see a shadowy figure sitting at the base of the front wall.

The hours that day had just slipped away. The sun was nowhere to be seen, and the sky was growing darker by the minute. Still, Arthur hadn’t gotten either him or his sister any food that day, so he figured he’d at least grab a late dinner. That is, until he notice the figure out the window on his way to the kitchen.

Silently, Arthur slipped out the front door, slowly creeping down the path to the front gate. The figure, a young woman, didn’t seem to notice him coming.

“Hello?” He whispered.

The woman flinched, jumping to her feet and reaching for something in her pocket. Then she froze.

“Gwen?” Arthur whispered, finally recognizing the woman.

“Arthur.” She breathed in relief. The fear immediately disappeared from her eyes, leaving her looking weak and miserable. It was clear that she’d been crying.

“What are you doing here? If anyone sees you…”

“I know, it was stupid.”

“What are you doing here?” Arthur asked again.

“Um… I’m here about… Morgana. Did she come home last night?” Gwen asked, struggling to get the words out.

“Yeah. She’s fine”

“Oh, thank god. She was with Elena last night. When we found…” Gwen’s voice broke. “We...uh, we thought we lost Morgana too.” She was talking to herself more than anyone else.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come." She whispered. "I should go."

“Wait." Arthur called before Gwen could leave. "I need help."

"What is it?"

"Morgana. She's hurt. She needs a doctor."

“How serious?" Gwen asked.

“She was shot twice, in the shoulder and the head."

"She was shot her in head?!"

"Shhh." Arthur whispered, looking back to the house. There was no one around. "It's not serious, just grazed her forehead."

“Are you sure?"

"Yes. Her shoulder though, she's lost a lot of blood. I tried to call a doctor, but she wouldn't let me."

"No, she's right. You can't call someone." Gwen muttered.

“She needs a doctor, I have no idea how to help her.” Arthur insisted

“If you call anyone, they would turn her over to the Gestapo.” Gwen said

"Is there anyone you know? Someone… on your side?."

Gwen froze, her face overcome with surprise and fear. She was at a loss for words, until she finally whispered "She...told you?"

"She didn't have to."

Gwen nodded slowly, staring at Arthur suspiciously.

"You can trust me, Gwen."

"Arthur, if anyone finds out..."

"They won't. You can trust me."

Gwen nodded again.

"Alright." She whispered, though she didn't seem convinced. "I know someone in town who can help. Can Morgana walk to the house in town?"

"I don't know if she can walk at all." Arthur admitted. "Can't they see Morgana here?"

"You live in an SS compound. Coming here would be suicide. She needs to come to town."

"And if she can't?" Arthur asked.

"Then you help her."

“I can try..."

"You have to make sure she gets there." Gwen insisted. “Whatever it takes.”

"Alright."

"I should go, before someone else sees me.” Gwen whispered. She turned to leave.

“Be careful.” Arthur called at the last moment.

“I always am. Goodnight, Arthur.”

"Goodnight."

*    *    *    *

It was a dreary morning, the town blanketed in a sense of gloom from the grey clouds and spitting rain and a sense of dread from the red flags that hung in every corner of the small Polish town. The streets had been kept empty by the cold and by the curfew. There was no to notice two young Germans struggling down the main street that morning.

Morgana, as it turned out, could walk. She hadn’t gotten much better overnight. In fact, Arthur suspected that she’d gotten worse (though he didn’t know enough to be able to tell). But she could walk well enough to get to the road.

The journey to town was brutal. Bitter wind blew freezing rain into their faces as they stumbled forwards. Arthur could tell that Morgana was struggling to stay conscious, and by the time they were halfway to town, Morgana couldn’t walk without leaning on Arthur for support. He was practically carrying her once they reached the end street where the house was.

Gwen was waiting for them on the front steps, and jump up to meet them the moment she saw him and Morgana stumbling down the street.

“Oh god, you look awful Morgana.” She said as she took Morgana’s other arm to help Arthur carry her.

“And you look lovely, as always.” Morgana mumbled.

Together, Arthur and Gwen helped Morgana get herself inside the house.

“She’s alive!” Gwaine yelled the moment Morgana stepped foot inside. All the others were inside, gathered in the torn up living room and all looking equally as torn up. Gwaine started clapping, and the others quickly joined in the applause. Morgana grinned.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” She said, stepping forward into the living room. She didn’t make it, though, before her legs gave out and she crumpled to the floor.

“Morgana!” Gwen rushed to her side. “Help me get her to the kitchen.”

Lance helped Gwen lift Morgana from the floor and carry her back to the kitchen. Arthur tried to follow, but was stopped and told to wait in the living room. He was too tired to argue.

He never saw the mysterious doctor Gwen had managed to find, but he could hear him in the kitchen, discussing something with Gwen. He couldn’t understand a word, but their tone didn’t sound good.

The hours dragged by, at least Arthur thought they did. There was no clock, so Arthur couldn’t be sure. For all he knew, he could have only been there for a few minutes, but it felt like hours, just sitting there on the couch and waiting. He couldn’t take anymore of just sitting around. He couldn’t go to the kitchen, no matter how much he wanted to. He’d just be kicked out again (and it was probably best that he stayed out of the way). On the other side of the room was a door that had been left ajar. With nothing better to do, Arthur decided to explore.

The door opened to dimly lit staircase the descended into an equally dimly lit basement. Silently (at least trying to be silent, Arthur wasn’t very good at sneaking around), he crept down the rickety wooden staircase. He had just stepped foot on the dirt floor when someone grabbed him from behind and shoved a gun to his face.

Arthur’s instincts took over, and he was about to punch the mysterious gunman in the face when he realized who it was that had a gun to his head. Elyan, Gwen’s brother.

“Arthur?” Elyan asked, recognizing the intruder. He let go of Arthur’s shoulder and immediately set his pistol down on a nearby table.

“Sorry.” He said with a heavy accent.

“I… thought…” He paused, struggling to find the words. “Hair. Eyes.”

His German was terrible, but Arthur understood perfectly. He looked like a Nazi.

The door at the top of the stairs slammed open, and Gwaine appeared in the doorway.

“Oh, Arthur.” He said. “We were wondering where you went.”

He said something to Elyan, then made his way down the creaking stairs to meet them at the bottom.

“Are you going to help too?” He asked Arthur.

“With what?” He asked.

Gwaine gestured around the room. It was the first time Arthur had gotten a good look at the cramped basement. It was filled with tables, all piled high with scraps of metal, wires, various tools, and liquor bottles filled with strangely coloured liquids. There were about a dozen guns, ranging from pistols to what looked like a machine gun, hanging on the opposite wall. There were more weapons piled on the floor below. Knifes, several grenades, a few more guns, a machete, and various metal contraptions.

“What is this place?” Arthur asked.

“Armory.” Gwaine replied proudly.

Arthur walked up to the nearest table, looking over the tangled wires various scraps of metal.

“What’s this for?” He asked, gesturing to the mess of trinkets. He reached to grabbed one of the many bottles filled with a greenish looking liquid.

“Don’t touch that!” Gwaine shouted. “You’ll bring the house down.”

“Bombs.” Elyan said, pointing to the contents of the table.

“You’re building bombs?”

“And other weapons.” Gwaine explained. “Elyan’s in charge here. He’s a genius with explosives.

Arthur looked around the room again in disbelief.

“What are all these weapons for?” He asked. “Do you use them?”

“Mostly we have them smuggled to Warsaw.”

“Why to Warsaw?” Arthur asked.

“To support the uprising.”

“The what?”

Gwaine stared at him in disbelief for a moment. “Morgana was right, you really don’t know what’s going on.”

Arthur wanted to protest, but he realized Gwaine was right. He didn’t pay attention to the war at all, and the information available to him, he realized, was probably wrong anyway.

“You know about the ghettos?” Gwaine asked.

Arthur nodded. He did remember, vaguely, hearing Father talking about the establishment of the “Jewish neighborhoods” in various cities.

“Well, the Nazis are liquidating the one in Warsaw.”

“Liquidating?”

“They are killing everyone left, or deporting them to a camp to be killed.” Gwaine explained. “A few weeks ago the resistance groups in the ghetto revolted. It was a mess, thousands of our people were killed, but the Jews did gain control of the ghetto. They’re poorly armed, and they won’t last long without more weapons.”

“So you are sending them weapons.”

“Exactly.”

Arthur nodded, looking over the room again, studying the mostly homemade weapons scattered around.

“I want to help.” He announced.

Gwaine laughed. “Ever built a bomb before?”

“Well, no.” Arthur admitted.

“You probably want to start out as a scout. It’s my understanding that you’ve been sneaking out to Auschwitz for months now, right?”

“Yeah…”

“See, you’ll be great as a scout.”

Arthur was about to ask what a scout was cut off by Gwen, who appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Arthur, you can see Morgana now, if you want.”

“Thank you.” He called, rushing to join Gwen at the top of the stairs. She led him through the living and hall to the kitchen.

The kitchen was empty except for Morgana, lying of the table, and an old man who was standing above her.

“This is Gaius.” Gwen said, motioning to the man. Gaius didn’t bother looking up, or acknowledging Arthur at all. He was too busy mixing some foul smelling concoction together.

“Is she going to be alright?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah. The bullet didn’t hit anything important.” Gwen explained. “The wound was infected pretty badly, that’s why she’s been so weak, but it should be fine now.”

“She’ll need to stay here for awhile.” Gaius said, turning to Arthur. “Infections are tricky, and there is no good cure. She should be fine, but we’ll need to keep an eye on her.”

“Thank you.” Arthur said. “For helping her.”

“Leon will be coming soon.” Gwen told him. “He can give you a ride home.”

Not even five minutes had passed before Leon arrived. He stayed only long enough to hand Gwen a package, then turned to leave again, Arthur following silently behind. Gwen sat down beside Morgana as they left, taking her hand in her own and kissing her forehead gently when she thought no one was looking.

Leon led Arthur out of the house and down the narrow street to his car, parked on the main road.

“We need to get you home before you’re father notices.”

Arthur doubted his father would notice if he died, but he didn’t argue.

The ride back to the house was silent, neither was in the mood to talk. Leon had attempted to get a conversation going at first, until they drove past the telephone poles on the way out of town. Elena had been added to the collection of hanging bodies. As they were approaching the driveway, it occurred to Arthur that Leon was one the person who might know the answer to the question that had been haunting Arthur for days.

“Is he alive?” Arthur asked with a quiet, shaking voice. “The boy you saved at the dinner party, is he alive?”

Leon sighed. “For now.” He muttered.


End file.
